Quarry of the Snake King
by Elliot Pole
Summary: Dustfinger finally gets his wish to go home.  But when Windcloak replaces him, Mo has to convince Meggie to get rid of him.  Windcloak is sent into The Time Machine, bringing the Time Traveler and Weena out.  Farid is evil, and two snakes want the Ring.
1. Windcloak

**Quarry of the Snake King**

**Chapter One: Windcloak**

Disclaimer: I do not own Dustfinger, Meggie, Mo, Farid, Gwin, Elinor, or Darius. I do own Windcloak.

_Dustfinger, I think I can help._

A snowy owl brought him the message, which was signed by Meggie, Silvertongue's daughter. She knew his craving for the world he came from, which was why he had taken off with _Inkheart. _Could she really help him, or was she just bluffing? Silvertongue had no more use for _Inkheart, _did he? Could this be guile?

He had to risk it. This world was too stifling, too overwhelming. He wondered if he could die from all the noise—the gas-birds that floated in the sky, and the wheelmobiles they drove around from city to city. Of course, he was in an isolated village where no harm should come to him, and the noise was practically obsolete, except for the grinding of the feeder monster, a machine that turned grain or wheat into straw.

Dustfinger thanked the kindly villager who had read him Meggie's note, going back to the barn where he, Gwin, and Farid had made their home. He knew that if he was going to go, he would have to leave the boy behind. Not that it mattered to him; the boy was nothing more than fodder for his schemes. Farid had proved useful at times, and he was extremely loyal, but perhaps it was this extreme fealty that was driving Dustfinger mad. He had to be free from this burden. Even his marten was starting to become an annoyance. After all, Dustfinger felt his eagerness for returning grow day by day, while Gwin became more and more accustomed to this world as time progressed, forgetting the place he came from.

Dustfinger decided then and there that he would not take Gwin. He was better company for Farid anyhow, the boy whose future and this world did not have to be wholly separated. Dustfinger knew that if he himself remained here, no good would come of it. But Farid could make this world his own. The difference between the two was that the former had once inhabited a world in a book that was invented entirely by the imagination of one man. The boy came from a world that mirrored this one, even if his setting was an Arabic desert and magic abounded. Farid could never be homesick here, and he might be if he went with Dustfinger. No, it had to be the fire-eater only who paid a visit to Silvertongue.

He ran that night as if he had never run before. He ran like Pheidippides around 490 B.C. to ask the Spartans for aid against the Persians. He ran without taking a moment's breath; he was going home at last!

He arrived at Elinor's abode three days later. He just then thought of an automobile, which would've conveyed him there faster, but it would also have been an unpleasant journey. The door was unlocked, as usual. But something in the atrium stopped him from proceeding any further. A ring of fire blocked his path. He, being a fire-eater, was not afraid, but this could only meaning that the boy had beaten him here.

He took a stick out of his side pocket and put it in the flames. Scooping up the fire, he swallowed it, and then brought up some more, again and again, until there was nothing but a tiny flicker remaining, which he stamped out with his foot.

"I knew you'd show up, maestro," said Farid, coming out of a dark corner.

"You beat me here?"

"Yes. Unlike you, I thought of riding instead of traveling by foot."

"How did you know I'd come here?"

"Oh, the villagers are no keepers of secrets," Farid said. "One of them said he read you a note, and you mentioned Silvertongue."

"How careless of me. Well, I'm going home."

"Then I'm going with you."

"No," Dustfinger said, a little too forcibly. "You can't survive in my world. It's just not what you are used to."

"You think I'm used to this?" the boy asked, looking around at the furniture and candelabra in the atrium.

"Even if you aren't, you still could not bear the trolls, fairies, glass men, and evil villains of my world. Capricorn was just one of a multitude of miscreants among the goodness in the world I come from. You are staying here."

"We'll see what Silvertongue has to say about that," Farid said.

"I say that we still can't predict who will go in and who will come out of the books we read," Silvertongue said, coming into the atrium and surprising Dustfinger.

"Meggie promised she would help me," Dustfinger stated.

"Yes, I know she did. But her powers are just as unpredictable as my own. It's possible that Farid will go in and you will be doomed to remain here."

"Don't burst my dreams like a vilderrat, Silvertongue," Dustfinger said.

"Ah, vilderrats," Mo said, reminiscing. "I remember that those vile creatures use shoestrings the way children in this world use snow. They make vilderrat-like creatures, and string angels, and when the Meown princesses toss out their shoestrings every winter around Clinover Eve, the vilderrats have a festival."

If Fenoglio had been there, he might've been proud that a reader knew his book so well. But he was trapped in _Inkheart, _in the very place Dustfinger wished he could be.

"Now, Dustfinger, if this works and Meggie manages to send you back, promise that you will send Fenoglio our greetings."

"Fenoglio?" Dustfinger asked, in horror. "No! I promise you, Silvertongue, if I ever encounter that man again, the last thing I will do is say hello."

"But he created you!" Silvertongue said in bewilderment. "Without him, you wouldn't exist."

"Without him, I wouldn't have to feel homesick. But I do. Now send me back!" Dustfinger demanded.

"Fine then. I will call Meggie."

The girl came down the stairs. She had a pen on her right ear; she was taking her writing career seriously, even though it was not yet three weeks since she first thought of making the creation of stories her profession.

Dustfinger followed her eagerly to an adjoining room, which was set up just for this occasion. He gave Meggie _Inkheart _and sat down, Farid standing next to him with Gwin on his shoulders. Mo stood behind his daughter to protect her from whatever might come out of the book.

Farid spoke to the girl he had developed an attraction for. "If you send Dustfinger back, I'd like to go too," he said.

"We'll see," Meggie said, though she had no intention of sending Farid away. She opened to a random page, and began reading.

"_Capricorn and the Shadow were not the only feared beings in the world. There was also a man named Windcloak, who was a terror to behold. Whenever he entered a room, the people could feel a light breeze—" _a _whoosh! _was heard as Meggie read—_"and he wore a gray coat that reminded his viewers of ominous clouds in the sky. However, it was known that if he was seen in a village, it would not rain for six months. For this reason, Windcloak is called the Lord of Droughts. He has a sinister cackle that can make a lion quiver in fear, and if he is attacked by a female, either verbally or physically, she will fall in love with him. These powers are all attributed to his cloak, and it is said that if it is removed or if Windcloak becomes forgetful and leaves it behind, all of his strength will vanish."_

Meggie stopped reading and looked up. As she had desired, Dustfinger was no longer there. In his place was a man just like the description of Windcloak—in fact, it was him. She could not see his face beneath his cloak, but she could make out two gleaming eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, bewildered. "This doesn't look like any place I'm familiar with." He walked over to the walls and examined their corners. "What a marvel! Perfectly even!"

"Of course they're even," Farid said, angry at Meggie for not sending him into _Inkheart _along with Dustfinger.

Windcloak turned to the boy, but his eyes riveted over to the marten. "I know you! You belong to that obnoxious fire-eater, Dirtthumb or something."

"Dustfinger," Meggie said.

"Yes, that's it. He tried to steal my cloak once. I'd like to get my hands on him, for I have a very vengeful nature."

"Well…he's, er, gone," Meggie said, not at all sorry that Dustfinger was safe from Windcloak's clutches.

"What do you mean?" Windcloak asked, addressing not Meggie but Mo.

"She sent him back into _Inkheart," _Mo said.

"Who is she? That is nothing more than a puppet, and you, sir, are a very gifted ventriloquist. However, it is impossible for me to believe that a mannequin could have enough sorcery in her to call me forth and to make Dirtthumb or Sodcakes or whatever he's called, vanish into heavy air."

"Call me a puppet, don't you?" Meggie exclaimed, and without thinking she rushed toward Windcloak and slapped him on the arm.

Windcloak winced. But all he said was, "My, aren't you a charming little girl?"

All of a sudden, Meggie felt like Pygmalion must have when he created his famous statue. Windcloak seemed so mysterious, but perhaps he was rather handsome under the cloak? And wouldn't it be interesting to date an older man?

"Ah, I think I'll save my questions for later. I can take my revenge on Basebones simply by kidnapping his marten. Come here you," he said, grabbing Gwin by the scruff of his neck and ignoring all of Gwin's attempts to bite him. Farid grabbed onto Windcloak just in time and all three of them vanished in a wisp of smoke.

"Meggie, why did you slap him?"

"Impulse," she said.

"But didn't you hear what you read? Now you'll have a crush on him, for who knows how long!"

"Well, it can't be helped," Meggie said, thinking admirably of Windcloak.

"Furthermore," Mo said, his voice sounding very concerned now, "I don't think Fenoglio wrote that passage you read aloud. I should know, because I've read _Inkheart _six times, and there was never a mention of Windcloak. So I think someone else wrote the passage. Someone who wanted us to bring him out, for whatever reasons."

"Well, that _is _something," Meggie said, looking at her nails. She had never cared about her looks before, except for her dislike of wearing glasses, because they distorted one's image. She believed strongly in Dorothy Parker's adage, "Man seldom make passes at ladies who wear glasses." But she would like to please Windcloak.

"I propose that we foil that person's plans, and send Windcloak into a different book, not _Inkheart. _Whatever comes out of there will probably be undesirable. And since you have a knack for sending particular people _into _books, I will need your help."


	2. Time Traveling and the Eloi

**Quarry of the Snake King**

**Chapter Two: Time-Traveling and Eloi**

Darius was in the library, searching for the best book to enslave Windcloak in. Meggie sat at her writing desk. Every single one of the stories she had written in the last forty-eight hours had Windcloak in them.

Mo worried about Meggie. Would she be unable to direct her power to send Windcloak away? Or would love keep her from doing as she was asked? Nobody would banish someone they had a crush on, unless there was promise of love elsewhere or they were spurned. There must be a way to induce her, though…

At last Darius found the perfect volume: _The Time Machine. _"I've always wanted to meet the Time Traveler," he said. "I wonder if he has a name?"

"I would presume so," Mo said. "But why did you pick this particular book to enslave Windcloak?"

"I wonder how he can handle Morlocks," Darius said, pushing his repeatedly mended glasses up his nose.

"Yes, I wonder too," Mo said, laughing. "What an idea!"

Elinor entered, as fat and white-haired as ever. "Yes, Mo, it's splendid to think of getting rid of the villain, but how will you lure him to come here? Unless you have an incentive, there's nothing that will incite him to be in close enough range for banishment."

"Oh, there's something," Mo said. He went over to the window. "See, it's raining."

"So?" Elinor asked.

"Windcloak is the Lord of Droughts. If his powers had not been weakened, there would be no rain here for six months."

"You think Windcloak has some kind of affection for your daughter?"

"I know that some people in _Inkheart _fall in love with whoever falls in love with them, in equal amounts. Not all, of course. Capricorn could never have loved anyone. Because Meggie fell in love with him when she slapped him, he fell in love with her."

"Ah, I see," Elinor said, though she did not see at all. 'So we will use her as bait?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it in such an unfavorable light," Mo said, frowning. "And besides, we have to make Meggie feel that what she's doing is best for Windcloak. She won't want to hurt him, or lose him even, unless she believes that our world will kill him. That is what we must tell her."

They spent a day and a half contriving a plan. Meggie was so lovesick with Windcloak that she didn't notice how grave the others were at supper. And then, on the second night, Windcloak came of his own, without any need to lure him out of hiding.

He barged in the front door, nearly causing it to fall off his hinges. Behind him came Farid and Gwin. In Windcloak's arms was a struggling boy, whom Mo recognized as Pippo, Fenoglio's grandson.

"Well, look who decided to join the party," Windcloak said, nastily.

"You mean, look who you forced to join the party," Mo said.

Meggie entered the room. She had smelled Windcloak's presence from her escritoire and had come down to check it out. Seeing Pippo, she ran up to Windcloak. Without realizing it, she began berating him. "Put Pippo down, you bastard!" she exclaimed, using a word Mo did not know was a part of her vocabulary.

Her heart gave a quick thump. As she yelled at him, he became more attractive to her, and she more attractive to him. Pippo fell to the ground with a thud.

"Good. Now that we're all here, we have a surprise for you, Windcloak," Mo said.

"Oh, you do? That's too bad. I only accept presents from preteen girls." One could tell that this was not Windcloak's normal response to such a circumstance. He had just said it because Meggie was twelve and he was in love with her.

"It is, in fact, my daughter's gift," Mo said. "She will be sending you to a wonderful place, where people of your ilk can enjoy themselves."

"Oh, really? And what is this fantastic place?"

"It's called _The Time Machine, _and it was founded by Captain H.G. Wells over a century ago."

"Mo, I couldn't—" Meggie started to say.

"You have to, Meggie. It's the best place for him."

"But...it's too soon! We only met two days ago, and…"

Mo whispered in her ear. "Meggie, he's a villain on Capricorn's scale. You remember Capricorn, don' you? I'm certain you don't want to repeat the experience."

Meggie shook her head. However, she did not agree to comply. Mo led her to the room they had used to send Dustfinger home, and Windcloak followed, as did Farid, who brought Pippo in with him.

She sat down in the same chair, but this time she winked at Windcloak before she picked up the book. On the front cover was a picture of the White Sphinx in the garden of the Eloi. Suddenly, Meggie had an idea. She could send Pippo into _The Time Machine _instead! Or Farid, or Gwin, or Mo. _No! _she yelled inwardly. How can I put Windcloak before Mo? Maybe I should get rid of him…

She opened to a passage and began reading.

"_She seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon my shoulder, and rose to push on and then there came a horrible realization. In manoeuvring my matches and Weena, I had turned myself about several times, and now I had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path. For all I knew, I might be facing back towards the Palace of Green Porcelain. I found myself in a cold sweat. I had to think rapidly what to do. I determined to build a fire and encamp where we were. I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a turfy bole, and very hastily, as my first lump of camphor waned, I began collecting snakes and leaves. Here and there out of the darkness round me the Morlocks' eyes shone like carbuncles. The camphor flickered and went out. I lit a match, and as I did so, two white forms that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away. One was so blinded by the light that he came straight for me, and I felt his bones grind under the blow of my fist."_

Meggie looked up. Windcloak was gone, and in his place stood a ruffled scientist. A hairy creature lay at his feet, and behind him was a fainted girl. She had brought three characters from the book, which means three people must've gone inside it.

Mo was behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief. Windcloak did not worry her anymore; as soon as he disappeared, so did her affection for him. Farid was still around. He picked up something gray off the floor and walked out of the room. No one else moved for several minutes. Then at last, the Time Traveler spoke.

"Where am I? In a building? You people aren't Eloi or Morlocks."

"No, we certainly aren't," Mo said.

Elinor came in. She was startled to see Farid rush past, and she had come to see if he had been shocked by something that occurred in this room. "Ah, so it worked," she said.

"What century is this?" the Time Traveler asked.

"The twenty-first," Elinor replied.

"Hmmm…perhaps I retrieved my time machine from the White Sphinx and forgot all about it. You people may not believe it, but I was born in the nineteenth century. I built a machine that can travel through the fourth dimension—that is, time—and ended up in the year 802,701. Our ancestors are not that admirable, but I can tell you about that later. I wonder where I left my machine."

Then Darius came in. "Oh my gosh! It's him, it's really him! The famous Time Traveler!"

"Famous? I'm only known in my circles back in my century. Unless people realized that I invented the time machine afterwards, which seems unlikely, because I have not have time to report back."

"Everyone knows you, Time Traveler. But no one knows your name."

"What's this? You know who I am and you don't know my name? Isn't that some kind of logical fallacy?"

"Actually, I like to call it the intent of Wells," Darius said. "But would you be pleased to tell us your name?"

"Oh, certainly. I'm Cecil Pratchard."

The girl behind Cecil woke up. She said something that no one could understand, save Cecil. But he hugged her instead of answering. "Weena! Wait…something's not right. I seem to remember running from Morlocks with the intention of returning to my Machine. I had just crushed the skull of a Morlock, and then suddenly I was here."

He saw the dead Morlock on the ground. Darius came over to examine it; it was even more gruesome than he had imagined.

"What's going on?" Cecil demanded. He turned to Mo, the person in the room who seemed to have the most composure.

"Well, you see, you are a book character and my daughter read you out of it," Mo said. "That particular night that you emerged from the book, Weena was going to die. You could not find her—the Morlocks had taken her body for meat. You found your time machine and managed to go into the future. You went all the way to the end of the world, then reversed the machine and returned home."

"Weena? Dead? That would have killed me!" Cecil said, hugging the Eloi.

They had dinner. Cecil was surprised by how much civilization had changed since his day. It was almost as if he had used the time machine to travel here, although he had no way of escaping this place. Darius told him about John Titor and other things about present theories concerning time machines. Cecil said he was certain he could build another one, although it might be harder to find the materials in the present day.

Weena would not eat the meat. Elinor had to just give her fruit. She found the shape of a banana ridiculous, almost refusing to touch it. But at least she condescended to take a bite. She preferred strawberries, but bananas were passable.

That night, they all went to bed with a good feeling in their hearts. They had no way of knowing that 1500 miles away, Farid had called forth two snakes—Senirus and his girl, Black Ivy. He had also donned on the gray cloak that Windcloak had left behind.

The three of them were staring into a mirror, which showed what was going on in Elinor's house. They could hear nothing, but they could see delight and pleasure on the faces of the various inhabitants.

"It seemsss they believe they've gotten rid of all their illsss," said Senirus.

"They'll have many more things to fret about in the near future," said Farid, blowing a smoke ring.

"And will you convince the girl to pull the ring out of that book about the men with the rabbit feet?" Black Ivy asked.

"I've never heard of such a book, but you two are more knowledgeable than I. How soon must you have it?"

"Within two fortnightsss," said Senirus. "If we do not, we won't be able to defeat Brislebon, and you will never get the girl."

"I'll help you any way I can," Farid promised.


End file.
